


The Sound of Rain

by rosecake



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Sexual Tension, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-07-29 21:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20089120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/pseuds/rosecake
Summary: Michael needs Philippa for this kind of job. She wishes she didn't, but she does.





	The Sound of Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tide_ms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tide_ms/gifts).

The city of Kreyen was mostly deserted this time of year. It was one of many lovely coastal cities on Casperia Prime, and if Michael and Philippa had come a few months earlier they would have found themselves surrounded on all sides by tourists from across the Federation and beyond, but instead they’d arrived half-way through the rainy season. They passed by street after street of dark and shuttered houses, the bright tropical colors the city was known for dimmed by the heavy cloud cover. It wasn’t raining yet, but the clouds hung heavy in the sky, promising a downpour sooner rather than later.

“You need to relax,” said Philippa. Her voice sounded too loud in the dark and empty streets, and Michael’s jaw tightened involuntarily for a moment.

They passed from the tourist areas into the city proper, and here Michael began to see some signs of life. There were people who lived here year round, just not many of them. “I’m perfectly calm.”

“Of course,” said Philippa, sounding completely unconvinced. “Then perhaps try to act like it.”

Michael sighed, trying to let some of the stiff posture she was used to from years on Vulcan and in Federation service go so that she could mimic Philippa’s easy grace. She didn’t think she was doing a very good job of it; the posture felt unnatural, and her clothes only made it worse. Her dress was too tight in some places and too loose in others, and she’d never had so much skin uncovered on a mission before. Her wig was the worst distraction, the long electric blue strands constantly catching her vision and tickling against the bare skin on her back and shoulders.

Her scalp still felt slightly electric where Philippa had helped her pin the wig into place earlier. It was the same where Philippa had helped her into her outfit, even though Michael had been quite clear that she hadn’t needed help. She still felt strangely outside of herself, a feeling that hadn’t faded with time.

They found the entrance to the place they were looking for, the sign flickered erratically. If there hadn’t been muffled noise coming from inside Michael might have thought it was abandoned.

As gloomy as it was outside, the club was even darker. It took Michael’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, and even longer for her ears to adjust to the terrible music blasting over the speakers. There were more people inside than she’d expected, given how few signs of life they’d come across in the streets, and a few of them looked up at her and Philippa when they entered.

Some of them kept looking longer than Michael would have liked. It was a bar for locals, and as much as they’d tried to dress to fit in, they clearly weren’t locals.

“Seriously, you have to relax,” said Philippa, softly enough that Michael barely heard her over the noise of the music. “You’re too stiff. You look out of place.”

“I don’t think it matters much either way,” said Michael, trying to get a good look at their surroundings without being too obvious about it.

She felt even more uneasy inside that she’d felt on the walk over. She’d hoped that the costume would to do some of the work for her, help get her in the correct headspace to play a person who would willingly spend time in a place like this, but it was too much of a stretch from her usual character.

She wasn’t very well-suited to this kind of spying. Philippa looked back at her, and it was from her expression that she was thinking the same thing. “Do you see the contact?” asked Philippa, and Michael shook her head.

Philippa shrugged. “We’re a little bit early,” she said. “That’s to be expected.”

She took Michael by the wrist and pulled her close, dragging her onto the floor. Michael stumbled at first, thrown off balance by the sudden motion and her own awkwardly shaped shoes, and she couldn’t properly regain her footing as Philippa spun her around.

“It’s fine by me,” Philippa said as she held Michael flush along her body, trying to get her to move in rhythm with the obnoxious music. “This seems like as good a place as any to kill some time.”

“You’re drawing attention to us,” said Michael through clenched teeth, and Philippa laughed at her.

“I’m acting like anyone would in a place like this,” she said, clasping her hands over the small of Michael’s back and pulling her closer. “You’re the one who’s out of step. Come on, I know this isn’t your first time dancing.”

Michael felt heat rising in her face. How she was supposed to properly dance with Philippa’s legs caught up in between her own was beyond her.

She unwound herself from Philippa, and Philippa sighed heavily but let her. Michael settled into one of the booths ringing the dance floor while Philippa got them drinks at the bar. She took a light sip of the drink Philippa handed her, just enough to determine that it was real alcohol, and then put it down on the table in front of her and ignored it even as Philippa knocked hers back.

Michael kept her eyes on the door, and on the other patrons. Almost all of Kreyen’s business was in tourism, and what little else they had going on was either slightly unsavory or outright criminal.

Philippa raised a hand to her cheek, pulling Michael’s face around until they were looking directly at each other.

“Stop looking at the door,” she said. “You’re too obvious about it. You should be looking at me instead.”

MIchael knew she was right, but she didn’t feel much like admitting it. “I know how to handle a mission,” she said. “I didn’t sleep through my Academy training.”

Philippa smiled at her, her expression a mix of fond amusement and condescension, like a parent who’s child had just said something cute but also deeply stupid. “Ah, yes, just like when you were in my universe. You didn’t manage to keep that charade up for long, did you?”

“Long enough to fool you,” snapped Michael.

“You had every advantage,” said Philippa, her voice soft and dark, and sometimes she reminded Michael so much of her own Captain and other times she seemed so completely alien that Michael didn’t understand how she had ever fooled herself into seeing a similarity. “You should have been able to slip a knife through my ribs before I even knew what was happening.”

Before Michael could even consider a response Philippa leaned in, her hand on Michael’s thigh. “Don’t look up,” she said, her dark eyes looking straight into Michael’s. “Our contact’s here.”

Michael heard Philippa sigh as she jerked her head towards the door. She recognized their contact but not the three men with him. Probably body guards, which they hadn’t agreed to.

“I told you not to look.”

Michael didn’t really care what Philippa had told her. Everything about the club was putting her on edge. The whole damn planet had her on edge. Michael wanted the exchange over and done with as quickly as possible. She stood, but Philippa caught her by the wrist.

“Let me handle it,” she said.

“Philippa—“

“This isn’t your kind of place,” said Philippa. “You know it, I know it, everyone in the building knows it. Why do you think Saru asked me to come with you? You know it isn’t because he’s fond of me.”

She slid a hand along Michael’s collar bone, sweeping back a few errant stands from the wig, and Michael shuddered in spite of herself.

“Leave it to me, Michael,” she said, leaning in too close to Michael’s ear. It wasn’t that hard to hear each other over the music. She didn’t have to be so close.

“Okay.”

Michael followed Philippa across the club, quiet and a half-step behind, trying to seem at ease in her surroundings. She shook the contact’s hand, trying to mimic the warmth of Philippa’s greeting even though something in his eyes left her feeling cold.

Philippa spoke as they found a place to sit, never explicitly mentioning the blueprints they’d come for but talking around it. Their contact lit a cigar as he listened to her, and Michael tried to suppress her irritation as smoke blew in her face. People didn’t smoke inside on Earth, not for generations. Vulcans didn’t smoke at all. She didn’t like, it and it was just one more thing she didn’t like about him, along with his harsh expression and immoral line of work.

He had information they needed, though, and she was here with Philippa to get it from him, so she probably shouldn’t judge him too harshly.

She coughed, not very loudly but enough that both he and Philippa stopped to look at her briefly before they went on talking. Philippa seemed unfazed by it, but then again, she was used to this kind of environment. Michael had seen her smoke before.

“Michael,” said Philippa quietly, her hand brushing against Michael’s knee, and Michael suddenly realized that she’d spaced out for a second.

“I’m fine,” she said, blinking her eyes. She was tired, and the sting of the smoke in her eyes was making it worse.

Their contact seemed to take a vicious kind of pleasure in her misstep. “Maybe she could go outside?” he suggested. “Get some fresh air?”

Philippa smiled coldly, and said, “What a wonderful idea. Michael?”

Michael didn’t like the idea of leaving on her own. Or of leaving Philippa alone, even if she was certain Philippa could handle herself just as well without Michael’s help. “I don’t think—“

“Come on,” said their contact, waving his cigar in her direction and sending another thick plume of smoke directly into her face. “Listen to your—“

He never got the chance to finish. There was a sudden flurry of movement as Philippa lunged forward, knocking the cigar from his hand and then driving her fist forward. She picked up the dropped cigar, still lit, and she moved too fast for Michael to see exactly what she did but all of a sudden he was clutching his face and screaming. Michael watched without really seeing, wondering why she felt so detached.  
Philippa picked up her glass and threw the drink across Michael’s face, and that woke her up for a split second. “Run,” she said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Michael rose to her feet, feeling unsteady as she moved. She had to shove people out of her way, and she could heard shouting and the sound of glass breaking as Philippa took care of the other men who’d come along with their target. A bartender tried to stop her at the door, shouting about trouble and damages, but by that point Philippa had caught up with her. She raised her phaser, and the bartender backed away as soon as he saw it, his hands in the air in a placating gesture.

The storm had broken while they were inside, and when they stepped out into the street it was pouring, rainwater soaking through to her skin in what felt like an instant.

“The rain is good,” said Philippa, shouting to be heard over the storm. Her arms were around Michael’s shoulders, and she was pulling her quickly through the streets. “The water will help clear your head. Just keep moving.”

“The shuttle is in the other direction,” said Michael.

Maybe. Usually she had an exemplary sense of direction, but she could barely see any landmarks through the heavy rainfall. That, and currently her brain was pulsing violently against the confines of her skull, which made it difficult to concentrate.

“We’ll circle back around later,” said Philippa. “Once we know we aren’t being followed.”

Michael followed her, too out of her head to be anything but obedient at the moment. Philippa ducked into a side street, lined by the shuttered-up vacation houses they’d passed by earlier, and she winced at the sharp noice as Philippa blasted the lock off the door to one of them.

It was dark inside, but dry, and it was a relief to be out of the rain for a moment.

“Take your clothes off,” said Philippa, stripping out of her own jacket.

The rest of her clothes followed quickly after, while Michael’s numb fingers fumbled with pins holding her wig in place. Her head felt clearer now, the rain having washed off whatever was left of the smoke, but she was still soaked and cold. The dry air was chilly against her skin and she could feel goosebumps rising along her arms.

She finally got the wig free and dumped it on the floor, satisfied to be rid of it. She peeled her clothes of next, the fabric even clingier now that it was wet, and tried not to think too hard about the fact that Philippa was watching her.

“Here,” said Philippa, holding out a towel she’d found in one of the closets. It smelled slightly like the fabricated cabinets it had been stored in, unused for months, but it was clean and it made her feel better to finally be dry.

“Do you feel normal?” asked Philippa, watching as Michael wrapped the towel around herself and then reached down for her bag.

“Yes,” said Michael. Her heart was racing and she felt a little flushed, but none of that was unexpected. She pulled out her tricorder, and sat down on the couch as it scanned her.

It only took a few seconds before it chimed, letting her know the scans had come up negative for any kind of foreign substance affecting her. Whatever had been in the smoke had dissipated already.

She held the tricorder out to Philippa as she sat down next to her, but Philippa just tossed it to the chair across from them. “I’m fine.”

The couch was big enough to fit a half dozen people on it comfortably, but that didn’t stop Philippa from settling down so close to Michael that their thighs touched. The rain and toweling off the water had smudged her eye makeup some, but she still looked elegant in spite of it. Michael was sure she was a mess.

Philippa leaned in closer, letting the back of her hand rest against Michael’s forehead. “You seem a little flushed, though,” she said. “Are you tired?”

Michael wasn’t tired. Just the opposite. Ordinarily, the sound of the rain driving against the roof would be calming, but she was too wired, and the noise of the storm only made her feel more electric. “No,” she said. “I’m not tired at all any more.”

Philippa laughed. “Yes, a little action will do that to you.” Michael started as Philippa reached for the edge of the towel she’d tied around herself, pulling it loose. “It’s fine,” she said. “I’m sure we can find a good use for all that adrenaline energy.”

Michael gasped as Philippa pushed her back against the couch. She moved quickly, easily, and in a moment she was straddling Michael, curved over her in a protective arc. She pressed her mouth against Michael’s neck. “Your pulse is still a little fast,” she said, her mouth moving against Michael’s skin as she spoke, soft and warm.

Michael nearly laughed. “Of course it’s fast,” she said. “That’s your fault, isn’t it?”

“I know,” said Philippa, pulling Michael’s towel until it fell completely open, leaving her fully naked underneath her.

Michael was sure the tricorder must have missed something, because this was a terrible idea. But she couldn’t say she’d never given into terrible ideas before, especially where Philippa was concerned.

“I bet I can get it going much faster before we’re done,” said Philippa, grinning, before dragging her fingers down along Michael’s chest.

Michael wasn’t much for gambling, but she new better than to take a bet with such terrible odds. Philippa’s fingers dragged along Michael’s stomach and Michael sighed, shifting her hips as Philippa moved down to her cunt. Philippa’s hands were still cold from the rain, and Michael gasped as Philippa slid her fingers through her folds. The cold felt good, almost shocking against the warmth of her core.

Michael reached for her, pulling Philippa’s towel off so that she was naked too, hair falling down around her shoulders as Michael pulled her down. She held her too tightly, so tight that Phillipa couldn’t get a good angle with her hand, but Michael didn’t care. She wanted to feel their bodies flush together, wanted to feel the warmth of Philippa against her.

“See, now you’re loosening up,” said Philippa. She slid a thigh between Michael’s legs and Michael rocked up against her, sighing. She did it again and again, working herself up until Philippa slid a hand in between them, pressing deep inside her, thrusting her fingers up into Michael roughly until Michael felt herself start to climb towards climax.

Philippa could tell, and managed to push into her harder, and she didn’t stop even as Michael came, shaking. She didn’t stop until it was too much, until Michael was right on the edge of begging her too, so oversensitive the feeling was just about to edge over into being painful.

At that moment Philippa let her go, reaching to touch herself, and Michael reached for her so that their hands where tangled up together as Philippa moaned.

After Philippa came Michael waited, her heart beat and her breathing slowing, for clarity. For the realization that she had crossed a line that she shouldn’t have, that she had created new problems where she already had enough existing issues to last a lifetime.

Philippa settled beside her on the over-sized couch, warm and clinging tightly to her, and as the rain sheeted down against the roof of their borrowed home Michael couldn’t manage regret.


End file.
